


Ghosts

by orphan_account



Category: Black Panther (2018), Creed (2015)
Genre: ABO dynamics, Alpha Adonis, Alpha Erik, Drama, Intersex, M/M, Mentioned mpreg but no mpreg, OR IS HE, Omega T'Challa, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Sad T'Challa, Self-Indulgent, Wakanda (Marvel), You'll find out... - Freeform, erik is dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: T'Challa decides to sponsor a young boxer who happens to look a lot like his dead husband, Erik.
Relationships: Adonis Creed/T'Challa (Marvel), Erik Killmonger/T'Challa
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> bc I love Tessa Thompson I'm not about to make Adonis cheat on her or some shit. They're gonna be friends and Bianca will have a gf named Jane who may or may not be based on Janelle Monae because i said so >:T
> 
> also i'm fully aware that tessa t and janelle are just friends but this is fanfic i do what i want. i am allowed to be delusional as long as i'm not in a IRL public area

The boxer in front of me was big but that didn’t mean I was in a disadvantage because of that. He was Japanese and an alpha. Both of our faces were messed up. I had a busted lip, he had swollen eyes, and both of us had lacerations. 

I needed to end this damn fight. The Japanese dude, Yosuke, was a tough guy. He was all the rage in Japan, apparently, especially Tokyo. He packed a mean punch, but he was slow. I had enough power in my punches to mess him up. I had to win. I would. Not winning wasn’t an option. For my father’s legacy, mainly, but recently a new reason has arrived. 

It was embarrassing, but in my times of struggle in the ring, I found that just merely looking at my lovely sponsor was enough to rile me up. So that’s what I did. I looked up at the stands. Seated at the very top row, was a beautiful older omega man with brown skin wearing all black. He sat upright, with his legs crossed. He always looked so elegant, no matter what he did.

“Pretty bitch.” I heard. I faced forward. Yosuke was smiling around his mouth-guard. “Yours?”

Don’t I wish. “Not your business.” I spat. 

“Too bad.” Yosuke shrugged. “You could have him if you win. But you won't." He earned a malicious glint in his eyes. "Hey, maybe I can have him—”

I don't let him finish. I lunged forward and punched him across the face with enough power to knock Yosuke to the ground. He didn’t get back up in time. The people in the stands got up and cheered loudly but they didn’t matter. I was looking for T’Challa’s reaction.

He was standing on his long legs, clapping his slender hands together in a calm matter. He had a smile on his face and his eyes. He was proud of me. I made him proud. Wherever my pops was watching, I knew he was proud, too. 

“You did it!” I heard and then I felt slender arms wrap themselves around my sweaty body. I looked away from T’Challa for a moment and instead was faced with Bianca. 

“I’m so proud of you.” Bianca said, taking my face in her hands. 

“Thanks.” I told her. 

Bianca’s pretty face broke into one of her toothy smiles. Her eyes suddenly flitted away. "Uh-oh. Looks like your man is gone."

I frowned. I looked around the crowd. I didn’t see T’Challa. Shit. Shit.

"Don't worry, I'll find him." She rolled her eyes with a smile and left. 

Uncle Rocky appeared in my line of vision. He hugged me and pounded my back. “Drinks are on me, Donnie!” he shouted.

I kept looking over people to try find T’Challa. Finally, I saw him by one of the exists talking to Bianca. He had his coat in hand—black of course. He must’ve sensed me watching him since he looked over to me and smiled his crooked smile. I felt my insides warm up and twist. I’m still not over T’Challa, even though we never dated. Our relationship is one-sided. He doesn't even know I like him like that but I'm okay with it. I don't want to mess up our friendship.

I forget all my thoughts when T’Challa gestures with his head at the men’s locker room.

“Yeah.” I answered. “Hey, I'm gonna head to the locker room. I’ll be out in a bit. I think T’Challa wants to talk to me.”

“Okay. Tell that pretty boy not to keep you for too long. We need to celebrate.”

I laughed. “Will do, unc.” I told him. I went to the locker room.

T’Challa was there, waiting for me by the benches with a first aid kit. “Hello, Adonis.” he said when he noticed me. He had a warm smile on his face.

“Hey, T.” I responded as I walked over to him.

There was an expression of pain on his face for a bit, but it vanished immediately. “Sit, my dear champion.”

The term of endearment makes my heart palpitate. I hope my expression doesn't show how stupid in love I am with this guy. I sit down and let T’Challa dab some ointment on my cuts and bruises with a q-tip.

“You fought so well today. As usual.”

“Thank you.”

"You always look so alive in the ring. I’m happy I’m able to help you in some way.”

‘In some’ way. Yeah, right. T’Challa got me into places with his money and bought me the latest, most high-end equipment, paid for any medical costs, paid for my gym memberships and anything he could think of. He was rich as fuck.

“You do more than that.” I said. I felt him raise my face so I could meet his. He had on one of his gentle smiles.

“Sweet boy,” T’Challa said, caressing my injured face, “I can only do so much. It is your talent that takes you places.” His hands were so soft on my skin. I couldn't hear myself breathe because my heart is pounding so loudly. His breath is right on my face, so sweet and warm like cinnamon. 

My eyes felt droopy. T’Challa’s presence made me calm, though some might say stupid. His pheromones were so strong it made me wonder if he was taking supplements for it at times, but most times I don't think so. His body might be subconsciously calling to me because of his husband's resemblance to me. At the moment, he’s so close to me I could just lean in and kiss him.

T’Challa stood upright, taking his sweet scent of cinnamon with him. Thank god. I was about to do something stupid. I counted my breaths silently until the heat and want subsided.

“Why are you so quiet?” T’Challa asked.

“’M tired.” It was a little white lie. I mean, I was tired but I also was eternally afraid of saying something stupid like "Your eyes look like a kitten's." 

T’Challa tutted. “Don’t worry. I’m almost done.”

I didn’t want him to be almost done. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to feel his slender body in my arms. “Why don’t you go out with m—um, us?” I asked, hoping he didn’t catch my slip-up.

T’Challa was quiet as he put band aids on my face for a bit. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why?” I demanded like a child before I could stop myself.

T’Challa was surprised. He tried to gather himself. “You should spend time with your uncle and your friend, not me. I’ll be in the way.”

“You won’t.” Uncle Rocky and Bianca would not mind if I spent some alone time with T'Challa. They knew how I felt about him.

T’Challa sighed. “Erik, I can’t—”

“Erik?” Hurt spread around my chest. 

T’Challa went wide-eyed. “I-I mean, Adonis.” He backed away. I eyed his hands. They were trembling. “I’m sorry, I—I have to go.”

I got up and tried to bring him back. “T’Challa—”

“Enjoy your night.” T’Challa said and got the hell out of the locker room.

I was left standing alone. I clenched my fists. “Fuck.”

***

The first time I met T’Challa, I was walking to my car after a fight. I lost. The guy had beat me the hell up. I walked with a limp but I convinced Uncle Rocky I was fine. There was this tall, slim guy walking past me. I bumped into him and muttered a ‘sorry’, but I lost my balance and tipped to the side. The guy caught me and held me upright. I looked at him to say thanks but stopped. I was met with big brown eyes and long eyelashes. My first impression of T’Challa was “Damn, he’s pretty."

The guy, who I didn’t know at the time was T’Challa, touched my face gently. I wanted to lean into his touch. He stared at me for the longest time. Tears were brought up in his eyes. “Erik?” he finally said in a raspy, accented voice. 

“Uhh, Adonis?” I pointed to myself. 

“But your face…” He had this lost, far-off look in his eyes.

“Is messed up.” Normally I didn't allow random people to touch me like that but T'Challa was a cutie so I let him.

T’Challa put his hands down. “I’m sorry…” He wiped his tears. “I thought you were someone else. You look just like—” He stopped himself and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone now.”

I immediately got the impression he was grieving over someone. Grieving people do weird shit sometimes. “It’s okay.” 

“I have to go. I’m so sorry.” T’Challa said and left.

A few days after, after I was patched up and had some bed-rest, Uncle Rocky called me on the phone and told me, “You got a sponsor.” 

I laughed. “You got me a sugar daddy?”

"Yeah. He's a looker and a grieving widower so you better not try anything. He just lost his husband in combat couple months ago.”

“Oh, shit.” 

“Yeah, but I talked to the dude. Said you made quite the impression on him. Wanted to sponsor you right away.”

I thought of the pretty guy I had met, but figured it was too good to be true. "Damn." 

“Wants to meet with you later over brunch, his treat I'm guessing since the guy's loaded.”

I couldn't help but ask, “How loaded?" 

"Pretty damn loaded. Guy's royalty or something." 

Later that day, a sleek limousine arrived to pick me up.

“Whoa.” I said.

A bald, black lady, alpha by her strong scent, wearing a sharp suit got out of the car. “Mr. Creed?” she asked.

“Yeah?” What the hell was going on?

“I am Okoye, Prince T’Challa’s personal bodyguard. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, same here.”

“The prince is waiting for you inside.” Okoye said and opened the door for me.

“Okay.” I got in the limo and was surprised to see that my sponsor was none other than the pretty guy that touched my face a couple of nights ago.

The prince, T'Challa, smiled. “Hello, Mr. Creed.” 

"Adonis is fine."

“Adonis. How apt.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush.” I said, then when I remembered this guy was royalty I added, “Your majesty.”

“Please," The prince raised a hand, "T’Challa is just fine.” 

“T’Challa.” I repeated. His name tasted good in my mouth.

“Yes. Are you hungry, Adonis?”

“Yeah and you can call me Donnie.” Most people did.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to call you Adonis. It’s a beautiful name.” 

“Sure.” I shrugged. I really didn’t mind. The way T’Challa said it was sexy.

Okoye drove us to some fancy restaurant downtown. T'Challa led me inside. “I hope you like mimosas.” 

For the first time, I realized how well dressed he was. Wing tipped shoes, slacks, a soft looking turtleneck, and a jacket that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He had some bling too—a thick silver chain and a ring. He smelled really good, too. I bet he tasted good, too. I drove any pervy thoughts away as we went inside. 

Before we sat down, some white guy took our coats and led us to our table. Then, a waiter took our drink orders. As we waited for the mimosas T’Challa ordered, I couldn’t help but ask him, “Why me?” I knew I was a good boxer, but I was curious. 

“I will be honest, you remind me of my late husband.” T’Challa said.

I figured as much. Still kind of hurt. I felt like a replacement or something. 

“The resemblance…it’s uncanny.” T’Challa took out his phone (newest iPhone model, I realized) and showed me a picture.

Holy shit. He was not kidding. Besides the short dreadlocks, gold teeth, and Marines uniform, this guy was my fucking twin. He looked a bit older, as well.

“He got killed while on a black ops mission three months ago.” T’Challa’s voice got thick. When I looked up at him, his eyes were teary. “I’m apologize.” T’Challa said, wiping his tears before they spilled.

“It’s okay. His death is still pretty fresh. You can cry all you want. Forget all these people probably watching us.”

T’Challa laughed. “Thank you, Adonis.” He took out a black silk handkerchief and dabbed his eyes.

“What was his name?”

“Erik. Erik Stevens.” T’Challa sighed sadly. “We were trying for a baby before he left. He said when he came back, we could try again…” He sighed. “I must sound like such an emotional fool right now. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to vent—”

“I already said it’s okay, T’Challa. Three months is nothing when you lose somebody.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“Nah, I _am_ right.”

Again, T’Challa laughed. I loved his laughter and his smile. I wanted to make him smile all the time.

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at fight scenes
> 
> apparently i also suck at coming up with terms of endearment bc i had to google some lmao


End file.
